


But Do It Anyway

by shadowfire125



Series: rewriting history [2]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, and not wait for an answer, scrooge will see an abandoned young person and say is anyone going to adopt this, trans gyro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:40:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24282220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowfire125/pseuds/shadowfire125
Summary: Scrooge needs a new plane. He ends up getting a lot more.
Relationships: B.O.Y.D. (Disney: DuckTales) & Gyro Gearloose, Gyro Gearloose & Scrooge McDuck
Series: rewriting history [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1752838
Comments: 16
Kudos: 160





	But Do It Anyway

**Author's Note:**

> i probably took some major liberties with how planes and airfields work but like. this is ducktales. also it’s my fic and i do what i want
> 
> (title is from [road regrets](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oAI-_2J7UXk) by dan mangan)

Scrooge McDuck leans on his cane, looking up at the bright red cargo plane as the mechanic gives him a rundown of the plane's features. The mechanic has a clipboard, but he rarely even glances at it, listing almost everything from memory.

"…this type of engine usually gets good mileage for a craft this size, but I made a few tweaks to it that should save you a lot of fuel," the mechanic is saying. "Well, I say tweaks, but I actually had to reconstruct some parts of it from scratch." He stifles a yawn. "It'll hold up a lot better than your last plane, though, and last a lot longer. Thanks for giving that to us, by the way. The scrap metal came in handy."

"Aye, well, I was getting tired of paying for repairs every time someone looked at it funny," Scrooge replies. The mechanic's consistent use of first-person throughout his explanation finally clicks. "Did you build this whole plane yourself?"

"Not _entirely,_ " the mechanic says, rubbing the back of his neck. "I had a team to help me with the major construction."

Scrooge looks him up and down with new interest. He's scrawny, and he slouches like he's too tall for his own comfort. His white feathers are stained liberally with grease, his glasses are held together with duct tape, and there are heavy bags under his eyes. There's an odd world-weariness about him, but if he's a day older than 25, Scrooge will eat his hat. "What was your name again, lad?"

"Gyro," he says. He doesn't volunteer a last name, but the patch on his jumpsuit reads _Greer_.

"Gyro," Scrooge repeats with a grin. "Would you like to work for McDuck Enterprises? I'm always looking for fresh talent."

Strangely, Gyro's posture stiffens. His eyes dart around the hangar, gripping the clipboard so tightly his knuckles show through his feathers. "Th-thank you for the offer, but I'm- I'm quite happy here, actually."

Scrooge arches an eyebrow, then digs into his pocket. "Well, if you ever change your mind," he says, holding out a business card, "you know where to find me."

Gyro hesitates, then takes the card. He fiddles with the edge before pocketing it and clearing his throat. "The plane is ready to go whenever you need it," he says, taking a small step back.

"My niece is the one who will be flying it," Scrooge replies, checking his pocket watch. "She should be here any minute. In the meantime, I'll go sort out the bill with your boss." He claps Gyro on the arm. "Don't lose that card."

Gyro flinches and takes another, larger step back. "I'm going to run one last diagnostic," he mumbles, and hurries off.

Head tilted, Scrooge watches him go. That was definitely the weirdest reaction to a job offer he's ever seen, and he can't help but wonder what is going through Gyro's mind. So when he goes to talk to the head of the airfield, rather than try to haggle down the price right away, he does a little investigating first.

"That Greer lad," Scrooge says casually. "Has he worked here long?"

The head of the airfield, a burly duck named Ripcord, scratches his head. "Oh, Gyro? Nearly a year now. Why?"

"He seems very talented for someone so young," Scrooge replies. "I asked him if he'd like to work for me, but he got awfully cagey."

Ripcord laughs. "Trying to poach my employees from me, McDuck?" he asks, but there's no bite to his words. Scrooge and Ripcord aren't particularly close, but they're on cordial enough terms. "He's skittish, but he's a good kid. I hired him for a custodial position, if you can believe it. Then one day he solved a problem that had the rest of my mechanics stumped." He pushes a hand through his flop of orange hair. "Honestly, I didn't have a clue that he knew a lick about engineering before that."

Scrooge's brow furrows. "Why didn't he apply as a mechanic?"

"No references, probably," Ripcord replies with a shrug. "He barely had a resume. But he'd just moved to Duckburg and didn't even have a place to stay, and I thought… well, he's someone's son, y'know? I'd hate to think of one of my own kids out there on their own like that, and we had the opening, so I took a chance on him. Now, I'm glad I did. Given the right opportunity, he's the kind of guy who's going places."

The subtle nudging in Ripcord's tone isn't lost on Scrooge, but Scrooge's attention snags on a different detail. How does someone without references or a resume get so good at building aircraft? It isn't exactly the kind of thing you just pick up along the way, not without proper schooling or some other form of tangible experience. Even if he's self-taught, why not admit that from the start? He could've made an effort at working his way up the ladder, rather than being a custodian. And the way he'd reacted to Scrooge's offer…

Well, Scrooge has been around enough to recognize when someone is running from something.

* * *

Gyro sits in the cockpit of the plane, holding Scrooge McDuck's business card and cursing himself. He should've lied and said he only helped build the plane. He shouldn't have acted so suspicious when McDuck tried to hire him. Even working as a mechanic at this inconspicuous airfield on the outskirts of Duckburg feels too high-profile, and now he's caught the interest of the richest duck in the world? He drags a hand down his face. Why couldn't he have just kept his mouth shut and stayed a janitor?

Admittedly, it does feel good to be working with machinery again, and getting to build a plane like this to McDuck's exacting specifications had been almost as exhilarating as creating something completely new. He misses inventing in the same way he would miss a limb, but after the incident that drove him back to this side of the country, he can't risk doing anything that would draw attention to himself.

On the other hand, with McDuck's resources, he would be able to-

"Well, hey there!" someone says, derailing his train of thought.

Gyro shrieks and leaps out of the captain's chair, stuffing the card into his pocket as he whips around. Standing in the cockpit with him is a young woman wearing a flight jacket, aviator cap, and blue scarf. She gives him an apologetic grin. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

He takes a couple of breaths, then gives her a shaky smile in return. "It's alright," he says. "You must be Mr. McDuck's niece."

"Got it in one," she replies, cocking a set of finger guns at him. "The name's Della. And I take it you work here?"

"Ah, yes. I was just doing one last diagnostic. You can never be too careful."

Della considers him. "Looked a little more like you were just spacing out."

Gyro coughs into his hand and makes a graceless attempt at changing the topic. "The plane doesn't have a name yet. Since you're the one flying her, I don't suppose you'd care to do the honors?"

The distraction works, and Della gets an almost worrying gleam in her eye. "Cloudslayer," she declares, not even having to think about it. "Because my brother isn't here to stop me this time."

"Cloudslayer it is," Gyro says, grabbing his clipboard off the console and scribbling down the name. He holds it up to show her. "And it's on the paperwork now, so it's official."

Della laughs. "I like you, Greer! I don't suppose you'd wanna come along on a test flight?"

The smile slides off Gyro's face. If he somehow accidentally endears himself to any more members of the McDuck clan, he really _will_ be in trouble. "I have other work I need to get to," he says, ignoring the pang of guilt he feels when Della looks confused at his curt tone. "Nice meeting you." He brushes past her and clambers down the ladder into the hold. The trek to the open cargo bay doors feels like miles, and he can feel Della's eyes on him every step of the way.

"See you around, then?" she calls after him, just before he steps off the plane.

He pretends not to hear, picking up his pace until he's out of the hangar entirely. Once he's outside, he rounds the corner and stops, thumping his forehead against the wall. She was just being friendly. Would it really hurt to have _one_ friend?

"Yes," he hisses to himself. "Yes, it would."

He turns around, slumping with his back to the wall, and shoves the hand not holding the clipboard into his pocket. Something scrapes his knuckles, and he withdraws the business card.

So what if he's working with scraps from the airfield's junk pile, and so what if he's averaging three hours of sleep a night? The progress he's been making has been painfully slow without the proper resources, but steady nonetheless. Taking McDuck up on his offer is far too risky, even if it would speed things along.

He can't trust anyone. He has to do this on his own.

Tearing the card in half, he drops it in a nearby trash can and strides away.

* * *

" _What would you like your name to be?" Gyro asked._

_2BO tore his attention away from the scenery rolling past the window of the coach bus to look at Gyro. "I already have a name," he replied, puzzled._

_Gyro drummed his fingers on the cover of the cheap adventure novel he'd picked up in the St. Canard bus station's news stand. "If you like it, that's fine," he said. "But I… well, I picked my own name when I started figuring out who I was. I thought you might want to do the same."_

_2BO considered this. "Are names that important?"_

" _They can be," Gyro said. He felt a little bad about only telling 2BO half of his reasoning, but he wasn't sure yet if he was just being overly paranoid. All of Gyro's important documents had been in his backpack, which had been left behind in the confusion at the lab and probably contributed to his missing-presumed-dead status. However, Akita's body hadn't been recovered from the wreckage either, and that made Gyro fear the worst—that Akita was alive and recuperating somewhere secret, and as soon as he could, he would make it his life's mission to take revenge on Gyro and 2BO. As a result, Gyro was inclined to stay "dead," which meant keeping a low profile. Having 2BO pick a new name would help them blend in better._

" _How did you decide on your name?" 2BO asked, leaning on the armrest between them._

_Gyro rubbed the back of his neck. "I went through a couple of different ones, honestly. But when something feels right, you just… kinda know? You don't have to make up your mind right away, and you don't have to stick with one if it stops fitting you." He smiled at 2BO. "It's just something to think about. No pressure."_

_There was a lot of pressure, but Gyro didn't want 2BO to feel any of it. He'd carry the weight of the whole world if it meant his boy didn't have to take on an ounce._

_Oblivious to Gyro's thoughts, 2BO lifted the armrest and nestled against Gyro's side. "Okay," he said, his eyes sliding shut. "I'll think about it."_

_Gyro wrapped his arm around 2BO and returned to his book. It never ceased to amaze him how comfortable and reassuring it was to have 2BO's weight against him. This wasn't where he'd ever imagined his life going, and the future had never seemed more daunting. But 2BO's trust was an anchor, and he thought that as long as 2BO believed in him, he could do anything._

_It would be another month before he realized the scope of what they were involved in was much, much larger than he'd thought. He and 2BO—eventually, Boyd—would move from town to town, only staying long enough to get money for their next bus ride. They would stay in homeless shelters and sleep under bridges, and avoid anyone who took too keen an interest in them._

_They would run for four years, until the looming presence snapping at their heels finally caught up with them in one explosive, disastrous instant._

* * *

Someone nervously clears their throat, and Ripcord looks up from the ledger he's poring over. Gyro stands on the opposite side of the desk, fiddling with an envelope. "Hey, kid," Ripcord says, leaning back in his chair. "What's up?"

Gyro silently holds out the envelope, his eyes downcast.

Ripcord tilts his head. "And this is…?"

"My two weeks' notice," Gyro replies, like he's dragging the words out of himself.

Something is wrong, but Ripcord isn't sure what. He doesn't take the envelope, and he asks, "So, you're accepting McDuck's offer after all?"

Ever so slightly, Gyro's fingers dig into the paper. He doesn't meet Ripcord's eyes when he eventually speaks. "No," he says. "I'm… I'm leaving Duckburg."

"I see," Ripcord says. He doesn't, not really. He can see the vague shape of it—a dark cloud that hovers over Gyro, a shadow that dogs his every step—but its form and details are unclear. In all the time Gyro has worked for him, Ripcord has been unable to learn one single thing about Gyro's personal life. Not for lack of trying; Ripcord is a father to his core, and he knows a lost child when he spots one. But he also knows not to push too hard, and so he's done his best to be open to Gyro, hoping that eventually Gyro will open to him in turn.

Gyro makes a small gesture with the envelope. "Please, sir," he says when Ripcord still doesn't take it. He looks every bit the scared, desperate kid that showed up on the airfield's doorstep eleven months ago, and it breaks Ripcord's heart.

"I might not understand what you're running from, son," Ripcord says, "but you've got a place here. You know that, don't you?"

Gyro's expression goes blank, and the hand holding the envelope steadies. "I know, Mr. McQuack," he says, and Ripcord knows he's lost him.

"Alright," he says heavily, and takes the envelope. "Dunno what we're gonna do without you, though."

"You managed just fine before," Gyro says, his tone and spine stiff. He pushes up his glasses, and for just a moment his mask of indifference cracks. He opens his beak, then closes it again. The mask reasserts itself, and he turns on his heel, striding out of the office.

Ripcord waits until he's sure Gyro is gone before he picks up his phone and dials a number. Whatever has Gyro spooked is beyond what Ripcord can handle himself.

Fortunately, he knows someone who can handle just about anything.

* * *

"Gyro Gearloose."

Gyro jerks in surprise, nearly knocking his forehead against the engine above him. Heart pounding in his chest, he lies still on his creeper seat and hopes he just misheard.

"Come on, boy," says McDuck from somewhere near Gyro's feet. "I know you heard me."

Reluctantly, Gyro rolls out from under the half-dismantled plane and sits up. "It's Greer, actually," he says, pointing to his nametag.

McDuck gives him an unimpressed look. " _Gearloose_ ," he repeats. "I'm very curious about how a man who died in Tokyolk five years ago ends up alive and well in Duckburg."

Gyro's gaze flicks to the door in the far wall of the garage, but McDuck is planted firmly in the way. There's no chance Gyro would be able to make a break for it without leaving himself open to some kind of action from McDuck.

McDuck picks up on this rapid calculation, and he arches an eyebrow. "By being cautious, I see," he says. His posture relaxes. "I'm not here to antagonize you. I've just managed to turn up some interesting things about you."

Gyro swallows. "How?"

"Now, you dinnae get to be the richest duck in the world without making a few connections in highly confidential places," McDuck replies, his chest puffing a little.

Standing up, Gyro balls his hands into fists. "If you're done gloating," he snaps, "what are you going to do to me?"

McDuck looks genuinely taken aback. " _Do_ to you?"

Gyro bristles. He's too aware of the machinery at his back, and his access to the exit is cut off. "I won't go down without a fight, I can promise you that."

"A f- Slow down, laddie!" McDuck raises a hand. "Who in Dismal Downs do you think I am?"

"I think you're someone who somehow dug up my history and cornered me alone in a garage that no one else is going to come into for a while," Gyro retorts.

Comprehension dawns on McDuck's face, and he steps back and to the side. "If you want to leave, I will nae stop you," he says. "But I'd appreciate it if you heard me out."

"I can't work for you." Gyro keeps his eyes fixed on the now-open path to the door.

"Then walk away," McDuck says. "Keep on running. But you've been barely scraping by, haven't you? Your luck is bound to run out."

 _It already has_ , Gyro doesn't say. "Why are you so interested?"

"Because if your record is anything to go by, you were one of the century's brightest up-and-coming minds before the incident at Akita Labs," McDuck replies. "You could be doing a lot more than just cowering behind anonymity."

Gyro clenches his jaw. " _Cowering_?" he grinds out. "You have _no_ idea what I've been through. I'm trying to stay alive. And you think you can just- just swan in and wave your hand, and it'll all work out because you're Scrooge McDuck? You probably just think I'm another mystery to solve, or that you can get an adventure out of me, but this is my _life_. And you _can't fix it!_ " His chest heaves, and he slams his fist against the side of the plane behind him. The fight drains out of him as quickly as it filled him. "I can't- I can't fix…" He trails off, unable to finish that thought.

McDuck watches Gyro, his soft face heavy with sympathy. "I dinnae think any of that," he says quietly. "But it sounds a little like you do."

"I don't-" Gyro screws his eyes shut. He's so tired. Can he be faulted for wishing, deep down, that someone with enough power and altruism would swoop in and rescue him?

Is he really going to pass up the chance for that to _actually_ happen?

But if time has taught him anything, no one gets anything for free. His shoulders sag. "What… what do you want from me?"

"I want you to work for me. Nothing more, nothing less."

Gyro rubs his forehead. "I can't," he sighs. McDuck opens his beak, and Gyro interjects, "Legally. I'm dead. And if I don't stay dead legally, pretty soon I'll be dead literally."

McDuck waves a dismissive hand. "Please," he says. "I've dealt with FOWL enough to protect you from whatever tricks they might try to pull."

Brow furrowing, Gyro tries to dissect this statement. "Who?" he finally asks.

McDuck stares. "You," he starts, then lets out a bark of incredulous laughter. "You've spent half a decade hiding from the most powerful criminal organization in the world, and you did nae _know_?"

Gyro shrugs, hunching in on himself. "I haven't had the opportunity to try figuring out who they are," he mumbles. "All I know is that they're after me, and they're everywhere."

McDuck's face softens. "You should be proud of yourself," he says with a wry smile. "Crossing them and living to tell the tale is quite the feat. What did you do to make them so mad?"

"I- I stole something," Gyro replies, unable to bring himself to give specifics. Logically, he thinks he can trust McDuck, but trust isn't something that comes naturally to him anymore. It's good to have a name for what's chasing him, though, and McDuck working counter to a shadowy organization lines up fairly well with his audacious public image. "A top-secret project. I thought I was just keeping my mentor from using h- it for evil. I didn't realize how deep it went."

The amusement fades from McDuck's expression. "Have you been on your own all this time?"

Gyro hesitates, then jerks his head in a small nod. He hasn't, technically, but it feels like the truth all the same. His chest is tight, and the walls are closing in on him. The impulse to run, a constant companion for far too long, grows ever stronger.

McDuck grips him by the arm. "You dinnae have to do this alone," he says gently. "I can help."

It's too much. He's gotten so used to doing everything himself that the thought of accepting help sets his gut churning. Gyro takes a breath, ready to spew the fire and vitriol that he uses as a last resort to drive away anyone who gets too curious about him.

What comes out instead is a shaky, broken sound, his legs turning to jelly under him. Scrooge drops his cane so he can use both hands to hold Gyro upright, and Gyro quietly shatters. It's been a long five years (this last year especially), and Gyro doesn't remember the last time he's cried properly.

The cap on his bottled emotions is off now, though, and he clings to the front of Scrooge's jacket as silent sobs wrack his body.

"Easy, lad, easy," Scrooge murmurs. He's solid and strong, a leverage point upon which the world could be shifted. "You're safe now. You're safe."

And when he says it like that, Gyro can almost believe it.

* * *

Moonlight filters through the water, casting shifting silver ripples across the lab under the Money Bin. Gyro doesn't mind that Scrooge has a strict lights-out policy—he's used to working in the dark by now. He crosses to his brand-new desk in the corner and carefully sets his duffel bag atop it. Unzipping the bag, he reaches inside and removes a small, grey body.

Its form is badly damaged, the wiring in the left arm exposed and a hole through the chest. Gyro has spent so long trying to repair the destruction that it's second nature to shove down the lurch of nausea his first glance always triggers. He gently lays the body out on his desk and brushes his hand over Boyd's head.

"Hang in there, kiddo," he whispers. "I'll see you soon."


End file.
